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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507494">Put down the target of me; in turn I will surrender</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercat/pseuds/undercat'>undercat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(for whatever value of relationship this is), Abusive Relationship, M/M, Off-screen torture, Rimming, Victim Blaming, dinner dates with your evil semi-ex-boyfriend, mild dub-con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:46:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,540</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercat/pseuds/undercat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The Dark Lord's lover, Celebrimbor thought, hysterical. He managed not to laugh. Why not?</i>
</p><p>Celebrimbor has a bitter conversation with Sauron. In one thing only do they come to a temporary accord.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Celebrimbor/Sauron</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Put down the target of me; in turn I will surrender</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Celebrimbor possibly spent two years as Sauron's prisoner. The bulk of this story takes place about six months in or so, before things get truly terrible.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Some time after Ost-in-Edhil fell – two months, perhaps, by the changing angle of the sun – Celebrimbor lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Sauron was crouched beside him, and when he reached out a hand, Celebrimbor flinched away, trying to curl into a ball, the mindless reflex of the panicked body.</p><p>Sauron sighed, and moved his hand away.</p><p>“Your stubbornness grows tiresome, Tyelpe; it's already cost me far too much time. We can't stay here any longer.”</p><p>He whined as a different horror filled him. <em>No no no, don't leave, not yet. Celeborn must be outside these walls, Celebrían and Durin too by now; stay here, away from those I love.</em> He pushed himself towards Sauron in supplication.</p><p>But Sauron smiled at him. “Oh, don't worry, brightness. Did you doubt? Of course I'll take you with me.”</p><p>And so the army of the Lord of the Rings went forth from the cast-down walls of Ost-in-Edhil, and by force Sauron’s prisoner was brought with, and he had no joy of it.</p><p> </p><p>In some ways it grew easier for Celebrimbor after they left his fallen city, for the great might of Sauron’s attention was no longer fixed solely on him, and he spent much time alone in a prison wagon, closed off to the sky. But it had a door and when the host stopped one night, it opened, and through it entered Sauron’s personal guard. He put up no fuss when they took him out of the wagon; he never did now, but instead raised his arms so that they could unlock the cuffs.</p><p>“Far be it from me to keep the Abhorred One waiting,” he said brightly, and let them help him down.</p><p>The Orcs watched him warily, for their master was always volatile around him, and the Secondborn avoided looking in his eyes: <em>demon</em>, he had heard them whisper,<em> sorcerous demon. Don't look in his eyes or he'll enchant you</em><em>. </em>They were terrified of him, and not just because he was the unfortunate favorite of their mercurial god: Celebrimbor found it all quite entertaining.</p><p>He looked up at the sky, hidden from him within the prison wagon. It was seeable tonight, dusk settling into true dark, the top of the firmament unclouded by the camp-fires’ smoke around it, and so very fair. Perhaps even this life was worth living, for in Námo’s dread prison he would not see the glory of the stars, and their silvery diamond light pierced even the dread shadow with holy beauty. <em>Ai Elbereth Gilthoniel! </em>he thought to her, she the only god worthy of veneration. <em>Sí di-thrúvand naegen, tíron elenath lín. Uisilivren aerwain, eglerion le a lín chalad</em><em>!</em></p><p>But it was to another god they took him, a lesser but far more bothersome one. One of his calcaneal tendons had been severed when they left Ost-in-Edhil, to ward off escape, and though it was half-healed he still found it difficult to walk on his own, so the guards mostly carried him, and threw him on the ground as soon as they entered Sauron's tent.</p><p>Celebrimbor lifted his head. Sauron was there, and two mortals. He recognized them, but if he had ever heard their names, he hadn't troubled himself to remember. They both froze to see him, but Sauron smiled brightly.</p><p>“Tyelpe! You're looking far better than when I saw you last.”</p><p>“Strange what not being covered in blood will do for one's appearance,” Celebrimbor muttered, but Sauron's smile didn't waver.</p><p>“It's not <em>my </em>fault what you make me do to you,” he said. “But here: I thought you'd be hungry.”</p><p>Food was laid out on a low table; it smelled delicious and no doubt would be: Celebrimbor ate quite well when they bothered to feed him.</p><p>Sauron raised an eyebrow. “The table won't come to you,” he said.</p><p>He hadn't eaten for several days: he <em>was</em> hungry.</p><p>Celebrimbor could not walk unaided, not without falling, so he crawled. Sauron's men were careful not to look at him, but he would not be bothered if they had: there was little now that humiliated him. There were worse things to lose than shame, like teeth or toes or sanity.</p><p>He supposed one could grow accustomed to anything.</p><p>The food was the normal fare of Sauron’s mortal soldiers, though rather better than what they themselves ate on campaign: a lamb loin, cooked greens with olives, and the ever-present flatbread. They had laid out a knife to cut the meat and he noted it with interest. There were green grapes on the table too; Celebrimbor wondered what vineyard they had been pillaged from, wondered if the farmers had fled or been slaughtered.</p><p>Sauron was still talking to the mortals. Celebrimbor was rather insulted at being ignored, used as he was to Sauron’s undivided attention, and supposed he should listen to whatever they were saying but could not quite bring himself to care. He ate a grape instead, enjoying the snap of the skin breaking and the burst of sweetness on his tongue, and idly noted that the most recent blood stains on the tent had not fully washed out.</p><p>But the Men did not stay long, and when Sauron dismissed them left quickly. He looked at Celebrimbor, who raised an eyebrow back at him.</p><p>Sauron smiled slightly. “I apologize for the wait. An entertaining thing in many ways, war, but it does take a fair bit of my time.”</p><p>“Planning how to lose that war? When the armies from the Land of the Gift come, are you thinking about your choice, to surrender or flee?”</p><p>Sauron laughed and sat down beside him, throwing an arm around his shoulder, careful to avoid the mostly-healed cuts. “The Númenóreans still dither, Tyelpe – what, are you hoping for a rescue?”</p><p>Hopeful he was not, neither amdir nor estel; for all his dreams and occasional plans of escape, Celebrimbor knew full well how this all would end: he had expected to be dead already, but could not quite regret that he still breathed, for even now there was some deep animal instinct inside him that shrieked for life. He leaned against Sauron’s side and looked away.</p><p>“By the time they come,” Sauron continued, “all of Eriador will be under my control. Telperien and Minastir may be indecisive, but they aren't <em>that</em> foolish; they'll send envoys then, not warships.”</p><p>Minastir was friend to Ereinion. Celebrimbor doubted very much it would be so, and he had earlier seen the Valacirca, those seven stars of silver fire set in the north that the Edain said heralded the defeat of darkness: the children of Beor, Hador, and Haleth would come. He ate another grape.</p><p>“You'll sit beside me, when they come to pay their respects; they’ll kneel to you as they will to me,” Sauron said into his ear, “and we can put all this behind us and resume our work.”</p><p>At times Celebrimbor wished Sauron would put out his eardrums: it would hurt less than listening to him. Bitterly he said, “What work? Trampling fields, burning forests, sacking cities? You ruin this world, as you ruined my art.” <em>You ruin</em><em>ed everything.</em></p><p>Sauron's fingers tightened around his arm and Celebrimbor’s body cringed, instinctively trying to make itself smaller.</p><p>But he was without a doubt the one who could speak most freely in this camp and Sauron deserved neither consideration nor care, so he said, “At any rate, I think you wrong, abhorred one: the Númenóreans <em>will </em>come, friends as they are of Lindon, and with them their spears and war-engines to crush underfoot you and your vermin army that plagues Eriador.”</p><p>He turned to face him and set his hands on Sauron’s thighs, leaned in. “Will you still have me when that day comes? You might kill me, and if I stay in the torment of your company I doubt I’d mind. But I should not be unhappy to see your defeat. Keep me till then, will you? It would please me to have something to rejoice in.”</p><p>Sauron’s face went tight. “Still with this foolish resistance to our dream?”</p><p>But he smiled, and touched Celebrimbor’s hair. “Well, I should not complain overmuch, however unpleasant our present circumstance: I would like you far less were you less difficult, even as bothersome as you insist on being now.”</p><p>He stood and walked to the other side of the table, sitting down cross-legged across from Celebrimbor, and poured them both a glass of the tannin-rich wine the men of his armies had brought from the south; Celebrimbor found it over-harsh, but drank it all the same as he picked desultorily at the food.</p><p>Sauron was staring at him, occasionally remembering to blink; once his gaze had not been unwanted, but the feeling it sent up his spine had changed in the past few months. Celebrimbor at times flattered himself that he had grown used to torment, and Sauron proved him wrong again and again – the body remembered even when the mind skittered away. But he did know him quite well indeed, and thought that tonight Sauron desired nothing more than his company.</p><p>Celebrimbor decided to make some actual attempt to eat, and let Sauron pour him another glass of wine. He considered asking him about how he experienced its chemical compounds but thought he did not care for a discussion on their differing sensory perceptions.</p><p>“I met my uncle Maedhros three times in my life,” he said instead.</p><p>“Yes, I know; we’ve talked about it before. If this is leading to a complaint about my so-called evil nature, I’m already bored.”</p><p>Celebrimbor rolled his eyes, and continued. “You will then recall that upon our second meeting Maedhros took me aside and gave me a knife, showed me how to open my carotid artery, and told me that capture was worse than death. He had great fear for my fate; I overheard him saying as much once and I believe it. I kept the knife. You’ve seen it: it was well-made and lovely too, and useful for many tasks. I… I thought about putting it to its intended purpose before we joined battle. Oh Annatar, I was so very scared.</p><p>“But such a thing I could not do, for I had a goal that eclipsed any fear. You have heard of a strategy called <em>deep defense</em>, I am sure, for the term itself comes from the war-manuals of the South, which we read in preparation.”</p><p>Sauron snorted. “I find myself now unsurprised, since your kin’s tactics are somewhat more complex than I expected – to think, that they’ve finally begun to understand the use of attacking supply chains! I was half-expecting your armies to meet mine in open battle; the Eldar may be valiant, for whatever it’s worth, but those of Beleriand never planned well, nor learned from previous mistakes.”</p><p>Celebrimbor did not argue the point. “Well I at least learned to forgo bridges. But no, the plan was to bleed you for Ost-in-Edhil – well, not <em>you;</em> we had no Hounds of Orome with us – but winnow your forces as best we could. And then…”</p><p>This part still made him quake, a bit; he had been so afraid, still was, and he looked away from Sauron. But he told him anyways, for it was done and his part ended, and whatever they were now Sauron had for long years been the one closest to his heart: a part of him still wished to tell him everything (but not the Rings, never those: they were the only secret he must keep).</p><p>“I had a subsequent battle in mind, after the capture of the city, with the aim of delay. It’s possible you would have captured me regardless; I’m sure you thought of the possibility of my suicide, but to be caught: it was my wish too. I <em>know </em>you, Sauron, and I knew what you wanted, and I knew I would have your attention and that you would spend, <em>waste</em> time on making your case to my body; that I could keep you in Ost-in-Edhil for a while, buy that time: a fight of a different sort, and at the cheap cost of myself only.”</p><p>He hesitated to look at Sauron, but when he did only saw a certain affectionate amusement.</p><p>“Oh?” said Sauron fondly. “You succeeded then, if it soothe you – my army did lose more men than I had projected, and you did delay me; I should have left once the city was taken; and I would never have you call yourself cheap, your worth incalculable. Yet you must realize too that yours was the loss and mine the victory, for I have you and soon the secret of your Rings inside your mind; before long I shall have the Three as well.”</p><p><em>You shall never have them</em>, Celebrimbor thought but did not say. There were many things he said to Sauron with little fear, but not that; his pulse quickened a bit; he did not like thinking of where talk of Rings often led.</p><p>“And anyways,” Sauron continued, “perhaps I am glad you sold Ost-in-Edhil so dearly: you have well noted the fear you strike in those that serve me, for it is the sorcerous enemy commander himself now in their midst and they remember his electrical traps and clever choking airs. That terror will serve you well when they answer to you. Still I wonder why you tell me now. It makes no difference of course, save that I now have slightly more trust in your strategic judgment.”</p><p>The touch of dread in his heart that had taken hold when Sauron mentioned the Rings slid away, and he thought, <em>I wanted to tell you, stars save me. Perhaps to hear what you thought, perhaps I wanted... May spiders slay me.</em></p><p>But he said, “Well, it seemed more interesting for once than discussing bad wine; we’ve talked enough about aromachemicals and flavor compounds in the past. Besides, <em>you </em>were the one that brought up war originally, not to mention how you <em>ignored </em>me in favor of your lieutenants, and here I thought you spoke in truth when you said that I was the only one in this camp capable of carrying on an interesting conversation.”</p><p>“You were welcome to listen, or even participate,” Sauron said with a touch of asperity. “Put no blame on me for your choice to sulk instead.”</p><p>Celebrimbor looked at him, feeling as sour as the wine. “You’re so <em>annoying</em>. I’m not sure why I never realized that before.”</p><p>He reached across the table to pour himself another glass and Sauron caught his wrist, turning the arm over to examine the chemical burns there.</p><p>“They’re healing well,” Sauron said, pressing at one; Celebrimbor couldn’t stop his cry.</p><p>“You know,” said Sauron absently, releasing his hand, “your tolerance of pain is quite low. I’d put you in the bottom quartile of subjects.”</p><p>“The fact that you have data for such an analysis is repulsive. And how exactly do you want me to take such an evaluation; should I be insulted?”</p><p>Sauron shrugged. “Take it however you want. It was but an observation.”</p><p>He rested his chin on his palm and stared at Celebrimbor. “It took far more to make your estranged uncle scream. He never begged either, not in my presence, though I did not care to seek him out; he wasn’t particularly interesting. But then, Maedhros gave up his secrets more readily than you do, though you and I shall rectify your obdurance with time and attention.”</p><p>Celebrimbor’s chief complaint about their conversation thus far had been that it was Sauron he was talking to, but now those familiar oily tendrils of fear crept their way into his mind and he grouped about frantic for something to distract him – abstract discussion of pain was itself unlikely to lead anywhere, but discussion of secrets kept…</p><p>So he smiled. “Ah, thank you for naming the uncle you spoke of. I wasn’t sure initially if you meant the kinslaying one or my other uncle the dog, since I do believe you’re acquainted with both.”</p><p>He put an elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand, the mirror of Sauron; he smiled again. “Though perhaps you hurt Huan too, in your fight, before he set his teeth to your throat and sent you crawling away on your belly, humiliated, like the worm you are.”</p><p>“We both of us are willing to be humiliated if need be, or flee, for the sake of our futures.” Sauron’s voice was as casual as Celebrimbor’s. “I see no shame in flight or surrender. I’m quite sure you’d agree, having made the same choice often enough in Beleriand. You retreated from me myself at Tol Sirion, and you were wise not to fight in my own Aglareb, which your people call the Nirnaeth. You, Celebrimbor, are cleverer than your self-doomed family. No need to fall to their sunk-cost fallacy now: cut your losses.”</p><p>“The only thing being cut now is <em>me</em>,” said Celebrimbor.</p><p>Sauron laughed, eyes bright. “I’m trying to <em>help </em>you. And I've done nothing irreparable.” He paused then, and reached for Celebrimbor's right hand, stroked the inside of his wrist, so very gentle, wrapped his fingers around it. “I won't. You are so very dear to me – you need convincing is all: that it's been so difficult is your doing, not mine.”</p><p>Sauron indeed had not done anything irreparable to the body. Celebrimbor remembered Gwindor, and thought that if by some kindness of Elbereth he were to be set free he would not be as one who had been a thrall in Angband but would recover fully in time. Sauron was a master of torment: the kind he used now was not the kind that would twist the body into something unusable and he fixed what he broke.</p><p>(Healing could be its own torture – pins set to hold broken bones straight hurt more than the breaking, sewing skin back on near as unpleasant as the flaying, and when Sauron set his Ring to heal the flesh the mending was as the destruction.)</p><p>But Sauron continued, letting go of Celebrimbor’s hand and leaning forward to touch his cheek instead, “And yet the world needs my vision, and that must come first: its restoration, its future glory. Oh Tyelpe, my bright and beautiful one, why do you stand in the way? I know you understand; have we not spoken of this a thousand times? Did you not once tell me that you would give me the world?”</p><p>Celebrimbor had indeed told him that and had meant it with all his soul, and still believed they had at the time shared the same vision. Sauron, for all his foulness, all his plans of ruinous domination, was certain he was doing that which needed to be done to the world, and had chosen his principles over friendship and love: it was the one thing for which Celebrimbor did not fault him, for he too had forsaken love for principle and was just as certain in his own rightness.</p><p>“I did say I would give you everything, and the world too.” He looked Sauron in the eye. “And I make myself a liar, for I shall not.”</p><p>Sauron looked back; had his flesh been him in truth and not a veil he wore Celebrimbor would be certain he was miserable, but even for him it was always somewhat difficult to tell his moods without touching his mind. He twisted the Ring on his finger.</p><p>“Why is this happening; why do you resist? It’s gone on for long enough: I don’t <em>like</em> seeing you in pain, Tyelpe; it hurts us both. Won’t you stop this? Let me save you, beloved: come back to me.”</p><p>There was an ache inside him that had nothing to do with the body. <em>You call me beloved, but what you do to me you don’t do to one you love</em>, he thought. They had indeed loved each other once, he knew, perhaps did even now. He knew too that they would not by the end.</p><p>But he still could not bear to say that aloud.</p><p>“You know, I’m quite impressed with my ability to, apparently, reach into the mind of a Maia and force its body to hold a knife and cut through my skin. Strange, that I can’t make that same body release me from my chains.”</p><p>“But you <em>are </em>forcing me. Celebrimbor, I need those Rings.”</p><p>Celebrimbor sighed, more exacerbated than anything. “Aren’t you <em>bored </em>with this, Annatar? How many times have I heard those words? All your monologues are the same: ‘stop resisting, give me the Three, rule the world with me.’ You’re like a mortal I met in Ladros, who hit his head and lost his ability to form new memories and would ask the same questions he had asked the turn of a small hourglass before. You were more exciting once, when you were able to think <em>new thoughts</em> and say things you hadn’t said a <em>thousand times before</em>.”</p><p>“I’m quite familiar with such amnesia,” said Sauron. “It can be triggered by removal or damage to the structures of the medial temporal lobe, though I’m curious how your Adan incurred such damage to a deep structure without death. A hemorrhagic stroke triggered by trauma, perhaps?”</p><p>Celebrimbor tilted his head, considering. “I only met the man well after his accident, so I couldn’t say. Repellent, knowing full well the methods you used to discover such a thing, but intriguing too. The comparative anatomy of the Secondborn is interesting: they have so little command of their bodies that the lack of neural plasticity isn’t surprising. But you’re not <em>listening. </em>I don’t think I’ve heard a single new thought of yours this past, what, half rotation around the sun? Did forging that Ring make you so <em>stupid</em>?”</p><p>Sauron didn’t respond this time. He reached for the knife and began turning it around absently; the golden circle on his hand caught the light. Celebrimbor couldn’t keep his own hands from trembling at that, and clasped them together as tight as he could to keep them still. But he went on; he did not know for how much longer he would be able to speak as he wanted and beneath the annoyance and exhaustion and fear was a fey fury driven by grief and rage both. For Sauron had told him how the One had been made, so pleased with his ingenuity, and Celebrimbor had never been angrier to see another so damaged, and later had wept for him and the world both, wanted to weep still.</p><p>“Oh Sauron, it is a great work, and how beautiful it is! And ai, Annatar, how terrible! What you have done to yourself; how you deceive yourself! Don’t you know that whatever you do to me, I shall never give you my own great works? Torment me if thou wilt, oh Lord of Ruin, destroy me, thou loathsome one, yet thou shalt not learn of the Three whilst I draw breath, for thee I detest!”</p><p>Sauron went still, and there was a burning dark flame in his eyes; at that Celebrimbor could not fight down the seizing fright that overwhelmed all else.</p><p>“Annatar,” Celebrimbor said desperately. “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t, not now.”</p><p>“I hadn’t been planning on attempting to persuade you further tonight, for all your usual recalcitrance: it grows wearisome, your screams. And yet, again and again you ask it of me.” But Sauron’s voice changed then, soft and fond, “Though the way you beg is as sweet as ever. I should like to hear that again.”</p><p>Celebrimbor was aware that Sauron’s expression was very familiar, but he could not quite grasp its meaning through his rising panic. He scrambled for Sauron’s hand, urgent, and once it was caught pressed a kiss to the palm.</p><p>“I can beg as sweet as you wish,” Celebrimbor said with unsteady breath. “But please, <em>please</em>, don’t, not tonight.”</p><p>He held Sauron’s hand to his cheek and sank into it. “I <em>can’t</em>, please Annatar, not now, don’t hurt-”</p><p>With a hiss, Sauron pulled his hand back and stood up, turning away sharply and stalking over to his desk. Celebrimbor pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them tight, biting his lip. His eyes darted around the room before alighting on the knife on the table. He stared at it and felt the anxiety subside.</p><p>It was sharp and Sauron was looking at something on the desk, not at him. Celebrimbor had thought of two ways to make Sauron kill him that were somewhat likely to succeed, but if he could conceal the knife in a pillow – Celebrimbor did not <em>want</em> to die, not while he could still see the stars, but another option, or something to hasten death once... It was unlikely that Sauron would fail to notice; he reached for the knife all the same, compelled beyond stopping. Yet Sauron saw and moved, quicker than any snake, and caught his wrist. He pressed against a nerve – Celebrimbor's fist opened and the knife fell from his hand – before rolling Celebrimbor over and onto the floor, settling atop him, all in one smooth motion.</p><p>“Dear Celebrimbor,” said Sauron, amused, “you know how foolish that was.”</p><p>Celebrimbor laughed up at him, baring his teeth. “Dear Sauron, <em>you</em> taught me the uses of knives.” He tilted his head, made his voice soft. “What would you do, I wonder, if I open my throat?”</p><p>Sauron's face tightened. “Saying that, <em>thinking</em> that, is <em>unacceptable</em>.”</p><p>He laid a hand over Celebrimbor's neck and pressed his thumb into the windpipe. Celebrimbor's eyes went wide and he stilled.</p><p>“Is this what you want?” Sauron said in his ear, low and intimate. “But how it terrifies you.”</p><p>Celebrimbor made a panicked little noise, and Sauron let up. He kept his hand against the neck, though, caressed it gently, then his cheek, his ear, his hair.</p><p>“Oh, Tyelpe,” he murmured, and stared down, thoughtful.</p><p>A constant, ceaseless fear had long since settled in Celebrimbor's bones, like the pain of a deep bruise; he was mostly able to ignore it. But certain things made it rise within him, made it crowd out everything else in his mind, and that expression on Sauron's face was one such thing. He knew not what else to do, and so closed his eyes and waited.</p><p>“I want to take you,” Sauron said.</p><p>Celebrimbor's eyes flew open: <em>that </em>was what Sauron was thinking?</p><p>“Wait, <em>what</em>?”</p><p>“Oh, come off: your hearing isn't damaged.” He bent down to press a kiss against the corner of Celebrimbor's jaw, his hair a bright curtain that fell around them both, and murmured softly in his ear, “I'll make it good for you, dearest; it will be so good. Will you let me?”</p><p>Celebrimbor stared up as Sauron lifted his head to gaze back. He was dumbfounded; sudden unwanted arousal stirred within him (so his blood volume <em>was </em>sufficient, he thought stupidly).</p><p>“I'll make it good,” Sauron said again. “I promise. Please.”</p><p>A part of Celebrimbor still... He nodded.</p><p>Sauron brightened and kissed him, and Celebrimbor kissed back. It <em>was </em>good, it <em>was </em>sweet. It made no difference if he let this happen, if he joined in. He gasped into Sauron's mouth and sighed as hands moved over his body: his tormentor knew it well, where to avoid and where to touch, where to linger; he was still capable of giving pleasure.</p><p>It took them no time at all to push Celebrimbor’s clothes out of the way, and Sauron sent his own disappearing into the air with a thought, leaving only his golden jewelry. He kissed his way down Celebrimbor’s body and took him in his mouth: he was already half-hard and Sauron's tongue brought him to full firmness. Celebrimbor had tried for so long to disassociate, to not feel what the body felt; how bizarre to willingly lose himself to his body. He lifted himself up on his elbows and let himself watch, reaching out a hand to touch Sauron's cheek, pressing to feel the bone beneath: he was so very fair, not the least like such.</p><p>When Sauron raised his head, Celebrimbor hissed, <em>betrayed, </em>and tried to push him back down: after everything, could he not at least have this?</p><p>But the look on Sauron's face was affectionate and devoted, and a part of Celebrimbor wanted to weep and never stop.</p><p>“How do you want to come?” he asked, pressing his tongue against the slit, running his thumb along the sensitive underside. “Like this? On my cock, or me on yours?”</p><p><em>Yes, </em>Celebrimbor almost said, <em>everything.</em> But everything had fallen to ruin, all hopes and dreams and love lost forever, and this to be the end... He squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment, then opened them. His image was reflected in Sauron’s golden eyes, and shame rose within him at the desire on his own face. “I want you inside me,” he whispered.</p><p>Sauron smiled, delighted. He sat up and cast his gaze around searching, twisted to reach for the table. There was oil there, for the bread; when he had it, he settled back between Celebrimbor's spread legs.</p><p>Celebrimbor laid back and looked up at him. “Annatar...”</p><p>Sauron shushed him. “Let me give you this.” He bent down and Celebrimbor felt the puff of his breath meet skin. “This is how we should be, side by side, face to face; aren’t we best together?” he said, and put his mouth to other uses.</p><p>Celebrimbor tipped his head back and his mind went blessedly blank: how <em>good </em>it felt. Sauron's mouth around him was warm and wet, his throat tight, his tongue as clever as ever. His fingers were clever too, and gentle, massaging his entrance and pressing just the tips of his fingers in: yes<em>, yes</em>. And if Celebrimbor both cried out and cried, well. It had been so long since he had felt anything but pain or numbness.</p><p>His thoughts were hazy with pleasure; he drifted and enjoyed and made little needy noises. Sauron took his time, drawing it out, moaning himself. Celebrimbor shifted and set one of the pillows under his head: this was to be the last time and he wanted to<em> see.</em> He reached down to run his hands through Sauron's hair and, out of habit, smiled at the other's happy hum.</p><p>When Sauron pulled back, Celebrimbor made a protesting noise.</p><p>Sauron hushed him and said, “Here, turn over, on your belly.” He helped him do so, taking the opportunity to run his hands along Celebrimbor’s side and legs.</p><p>It discomforted Celebrimbor; he disliked not seeing what Sauron was doing. He looked over his shoulder; Sauron’s touch had been soothing but there was a certain desperate happiness in his dilated eyes.</p><p>“Shh,” he said. “I’ll take you on your back, to see your face. But lie down. Let me please you first.”</p><p>Celebrimbor sighed and set his head down on his folded arms, and relaxed as Sauron parted his cheeks, but everything fled his mind when Sauron lowered his head and set his mouth to his entrance. Celebrimbor shouted then, Elbereth forgive him.</p><p>Sauron’s tongue was wet and warm, and he ran it along the cleft of his ass, and across it, settling on his hole and licking short, quick strokes, letting rest the flat of his tongue against the entrance before setting his lips around it and sucking, and at that Celebrimbor did not bother stopping himself from moaning, and when Sauron reached around with an oiled hand to stroke his cock, playing with sensitive area just below the head he cried out, little sharp high noises: oh, but Sauron knew his body so well, and he was glad of it once again.</p><p>It was, this was… after everything that had happened, everything that he still could not believe had happened, the best moment since… but Sauron swirled his tongue around the rim, and then slid it inside and nothing else mattered, just the slow perfect delight of what he <em>felt</em>, the way time and his body both unfolded, loosened, how he knew he was for now the entire focus of Sauron’s being, his pleasure his only care, the opening of his entrance with his perfect tongue and mouth his only want, the need for all his nerves to sing in bliss.</p><p>Sauron let go of his cock to hold his hip still with one hand and slide the fingers of his other into him: three perhaps, or four, and Celebrimbor was relaxed enough to want more; he pushed back against them. Something smooth and cold caught on his rim and he realized with a start it was the Ring. He gasped, eyes gone wide, but it felt good, so good, and better still when Sauron traced around it with his hot tongue.</p><p>Sauron pushed his fingers in further, and with them the Ring, now almost electric; and he laughed a little, joyfully, not at all mean, and Celebrimbor shivered to feel his breath.</p><p>“I told you, you sound so sweet when you beg; how perfect you are like this,” he said, and Celebrimbor distantly noticed he was pleading for <em>more, Annatar</em>, <em>more,</em> as Sauron twisted his fingers within him. Inside him the Ring was still cold; in the past it had been as a brand when it had touched him, but then, Celebrimbor had always liked the touch of ice and chilled steel at such times as these: he set aside the observation of how the One responded to its master’s will for further consideration.</p><p>But later, not now, not when Sauron touched his cock again to stroke it even as he set his mouth back on him, working his tongue around his fingers, letting it catch against his entrance as he licked in and out; Celebrimbor gave himself to what he felt, how good it was. That warm pressure grew within him as he fucked himself on Sauron’s fingers and tongue and the Ring all, till Sauron pulled his head back again.</p><p>“What do you want now?” His voice was rough and low and shaky. “Anything, Tyelpe, I’ll give you anything.”</p><p>Fingers were not enough. “Your cock,” Celebrimbor gasped, and very decidedly did not say <em>please.</em></p><p>“Anything,” Sauron whispered back, “and that, oh please <em>please</em>, whatever you want<em>.</em>”</p><p>The warmth and weight of his body disappeared for a moment and Celebrimbor turned on his back. Sauron was kneeling beside him; he watched as he slicked himself with the oil, making an appreciative murmur at the sight, and spread his legs as he moved atop him.</p><p>“Yes?” Sauron asked.</p><p>Celebrimbor could feel the waiting pressure against his entrance; he <em>yearned </em>for it, something to fill the emptiness in soul and body both. <em>What am I </em>doing<em>?</em> He was desperately hard: he wanted <em>more, </em>wanted Sauron the Abhorred. <em>The Dark Lord's lover,</em> he thought, hysterical, and managed not to laugh. <em>Why not?</em></p><p>“Yes,” he said, quite sure.</p><p>Sauron looked smug and satisfied, but his eyes went wide when he pressed into him, slowly, so slowly, set his face against Celebrimbor's neck, hot breaths; they were both shaking. But he mastered himself, and set a languid rocking rhythm, reaching for Celebrimbor’s hands to intertwine their fingers and Celebrimbor clutched them tight.</p><p><em>Oh</em>, but it felt so <em>good</em>. And it was... pleasing to see Sauron trembling above him, pleasing to cradle that strong body between his thighs, pleasing to hear him whimper when Celebrimbor rocked his hips forward to meet his thrusts. But more pleasing still was the hard cock inside him, touching that place that sent a hot jolt to his own, set a fire racing under his skin. He pulled his hands free to run them down Sauron’s back and dig his fingers into the flesh of his ass to drive him on, deep into him. Sauron had said he would make it good, and for once he held to his promise, thrusts gentle and thorough till their mutual desperate greed took hold as hunger on hunger wrought and control fled, faster then, harder, frantic and hopeless.</p><p>Sauron grabbed at his hips, his thighs, hissing, pushing them together, staring at him helplessly, and at that Celebrimbor could not hold still; he was lost, breathless cries drawn forth from his throat. He threw his good leg over Sauron’s back for leverage, dug his heel in, and knotted his hands through his hair, pulling him down to pant in his mouth and trade quick kisses. “Yes,” whispered Sauron against his lips, “yes, yes, you're <em>mine</em>-” Celebrimbor could not bear to hear more, so he tugged his head back and set his teeth to his throat – he <em>did </em>like hearing that once-loved voice choke off in a needy gasp. Sauron said no more, and Celebrimbor did not think, was nothing but a body moving against a body on a tent floor.</p><p>He told himself he was not grieved, told himself it did not matter, and it did not, not with the frantic, burning pleasure coursing through his flesh. There were much better things to feel. It was a body in ecstasy; it was an end, every kiss a loss, every caress a defeat, all burnt out and there were ashes in his mouth. And when he came - gasping, shaking, clutching hard at Sauron’s shoulders – that was a death too.</p><p>That endless perfect moment passed with a final shudder, yet it was lovely too to lie spent on the ground, Sauron taking his own pleasure from his lax body as Celebrimbor stroked his back and murmured to him how good it was, how dear he was like this, how he could take whatever he wished; the needy desperation was gone, but soft sparks still moved up his spine, too much, almost, but not enough. He wished this moment too would stretch out forever. It did not – nothing good ever lasted - but it was also good to see Sauron above him, staring down with wide eyes that did not blink till he whispered a word and came.</p><p>After Sauron had pulled out, he wrapped his arms around Celebrimbor and settled him against his chest. Celebrimbor sighed, and rested his head on Sauron's shoulder. The ache in his body felt good for once, and there was a pleasant lightness in his limbs. He did not allow himself to think; he did allow himself to embrace Sauron in return: there was still something comforting in it. Sauron gave a contented hum, running his hand along Celebrimbor's back.</p><p>“Tyelpe,” he said at length. “What do you need? Whyever you're doing this, stop it.”</p><p>Celebrimbor shook his head, hiding his eyes; he wanted to weep. <em>N</em><em>o, not now, not when you hold me like this.</em></p><p>Sauron continued, of course: he ruined everything. “Give up my Rings; come back to me."</p><p>Celebrimbor shivered, and into Sauron's collarbone said, “<em>Please.</em>” He kissed his neck, an apology, an abject plea.</p><p>Sauron relented and did not speak again, only stroked his hair, very gently. They lay together for a long while, till dawn broke and the army began its march.</p><p>He had a knife in his hand when Celebrimbor saw him next.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><i>Ai Elbereth Gilthoniel! Sí di-thrúvand naegen, tíron elenath lín. Uisilivren aerwain, eglerion le a lín chalad.</i> “Oh Star-queen Star-kindler! Now under painful dark-captivity, I see your star-host. Most holy Ever-silvery-radiance, I praise you and your light.” Transparently adopted from Lord of the Rings. Sindarin is uncertain as always: I’m going here with the informed speculation that soft mutation of ‘rh’ produces ‘thr’.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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